The Laurel Academy
by Slayer Isis
Summary: [Part 6 in the Meant To Be series]..A connection to the demon has finally been made. In 1976, its victims attended the Laurel Academy at the same time. Among the victims included Mary Winchester.
1. Ch 1 x Brave Little Girl

_**Part 6** in the **Meant To Be** series_

…**THE LAUREL ACADEMY…**

Written by Slayer Isis

_Summary_: A connection has finally been made. Yvonne Donnelly, one of the Demon's previous victims, went to the Laurel Academy in Massachusetts as a child. Sam and Dean realize other victims went to the school in 1976…one of whom they knew very well: Mary Winchester. And as the discovery is being made, the girls now at the academy are being terrorized at the school…

_Summary Note_: According to the CW's _Supernatural_, Season Two's "Night Shifter" and "Road kill" (and everything in between) have occurred. The story takes place a few months after the events in _Part 5_ of the _MTB_ series…I'll say it takes place in mid-summer 2007.

_Author's Note_: My original thought was to have this entire "episode" (or "part") completely Amy-less and focus more on Dean and Sam's hunt. There will be mention of her, of course. But I may change my mind if she actually shows up or not.

_Rated_: PG – PG-13

_Distribution_: I do not own _Supernatural_, it all belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW and etc. I do not wish to be sued. Etc. (I own Amy and anyone else that I, have obviously, made up.)

_Dedication:_ To my sister, Sarah. Also to the cast and crew of _Supernatural_ – they've all done a great job and have delivered a great show – hope to see it last for at least 5 years (or 10).

Feedbacks/Comments/Reviews much appreciated. (Note: I foresee that I'll be able to complete this story successfully and on time, without any pause or delay, if I receive many comments. _Just a thought_.)

Thus, I introduce the sixth installment of the _Meant To Be_ series

O.O.O.O.O.O.O.

**Chapter One – Brave Little Girl**

_I'm going to die, _she thought. She bit the inside of her lip. Hard. The child tasted a drop or two of blood – the sweet liquid only reminded her more of the concept of death. People bleed when they die. They die and then bleed. Death. Blood. _Murder…_ Her head wheeled around to the side. _A sound?_ She could taste more of the blood on her torn flesh inside her mouth. There were no tears. She never cried. Maybe when she got hurt really bad, but not when she was scared. Fear only made her more paranoid every second. It consumed and devoured her and it wouldn't let her go until Jill could realize that everything that was happening was just a figment of her imagination. _Just a bad dream…just a bad dream…_ Then why was the taste of blood growing in her mouth? The cut she had done to herself was small. Her mind was making her believe she was drinking blood. Her own blood. _Like a little vampire…_ Stop thinking of blood and death, she told herself bravely.

Her knees were pushed to her chest; hands wrapped around her legs with torn stockings. Little fingers stroked her own knees, trying to tell herself it would all be over soon. _It would all be over soon…_ Jill held herself tighter. Any tighter and she would roll into a perfect ball. Her maroon-colored uniform was soaked in her own sweat. The rim of her gray skirt was torn, revealing a cut on her small, peach-colored thigh. The twelve-year-old's usual curly, chestnut-colored hair was flat and sticking to the sides of her moist face. No tears, just sweat. She never cried…

Jill dared herself to not remove her position in the corner. This was her safe place. _Close your eyes…count to ten…or fifteen…thirty, would be better… And it would all be over soon…_

She thought of her mother. And father. And that adorable little brother who was just learning how to speak… _I can't wait to come home and teach you how to make a box of clay or paint or how to speak French… Even though I only know a little… Italian is definitely better…_ The blood in her mouth reminded her of eating pizza. _I can't wait to eat pizza with you little brother…_ No tears… She wanted to scream randomly. That would make everything better. Someone could come to her aid… To her rescue.

_Prayer_, she thought. _Mom believes in prayer…_

Jill had never accepted God. She knew most girls at her age believed in him. To Jill, God was Santa Claus. Over time you believe in it with a passion…but eventually you grow weary of that fantasy and learn the real truth… There is no man in a red suit who delivers presents. And there is not a giant being that watches over everyone and protects them… Why pray? If God is powerful…and if God has a "plan"…why pray at all? Can prayer make God think: "Well gee, they do have a point. I'll grant them this one thing…" Asking God of something is the same thing as telling him…so God is not all powerful…which means everything she had learned in her bible course had been wrong…which would mean God did not exist… Jill tried to remember everything about bible class. It would make the time go by faster. She thought about the French teacher she hated. Soon she was in a new language class: Italian. She thought about math. She liked math. But not as much as Language Arts. Books, poems, essays…her escape into a fantasy world…

It was summertime, she realized. Back home in Arkansas, she would be in a pool. She loved to swim. Her house had a large pool in the back yard with a large tent over it. She wanted to swim in the pool…her parents drinking wine at the bench beside the pool…her little brother sitting in a floatie. She remembered her excitement when she was told she would be going away to school…

Year-round school…a school that made you do homework during the summer…a place that offered parents the options to let their children stay at the academy during the summer to take extra courses. _They say I can graduate by the time I'm sixteen if I keep it up…_

Another noise. That same eerie sound… Jill's head shot up, revealing a set of bright green eyes. Her lips were pressed tight against her knee. Her hands wrapped around one another. The small body began to rock back and forth…humming to herself… _I wish I were at home…in the swimming pool…teaching my brother bits of Italian and eating pizza…_

The girl did not see the hand suddenly come through the wall. The arm was made of mangled, red flesh. Its nails were gray and sharp – they even looked as if the nails had been bitten in some places. The rigid edges of those nails moved through the wall…revealing an entire arm…

The arm was right about Jill's head. She did not see the arm…or the hand reaching down to her…but she knew it was there…

Finally, Jill ran…

_Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water…_

Her bruised, cut-up bloody legs ran as fast as they could through the dark corridor. Old paintings of past alumni hung in the shadows…their eyes watched as she ran…begging that she run faster away from the being…

_Jack fell down and broke his crown…_

The girl felt her knees give out…she was tired…and she crashed onto the floor…

_And Jill came tumbling after…_

_Books, poems, essays_… She thought about her greatest passion in school as she lifted a bruised chin from the hard, wood floor. Strands of those once-beautiful chestnut curls fell in front of her face as she weakly got up to save herself…

Jill rolled onto her back, trying to avoid getting up by using her knees… They hurt.

She came face to face with the being that had chased her… Her mouth opened and she screamed… The blood from her lip formed on the corner of her lip…

The same disgusting red arm reached out toward her…

_I'm going to die,_ Jill thought. And she grew tired of screaming…

O.O.O.O.O.

A/N: Hope you like it so far. Please let me know what you all think!

Reviews/Comments/Feedback much appreciated. And thanks again for all of the reviews/comments I received from "Dreadful Journey."


	2. Ch 2 x Counting Stars

A/N: The following lyrics are that of the song **"Counting Stars"** by Sugarcult. (love it…very heart wrenching…listen to it)

Enjoy.

O.O.O.O.O.

**Chapter Two – Counting Stars**

The rain pattered against the Roadhouse window. The bar was empty except for Ellen, Ash, and Sam. Ellen remained behind the bar counter, cleaning the same spot with a rag, eyes focused on the gray window. In the corner sat Ash, at his laptop, as usual, wondering if Sam would ever move away from the window. The computer genius ran a tired hand through his hair and then went back to work.

Sam, in jeans and a black T-shirt, leaned against the wall. His eyes were looking out the window too. His hair had been cut shorter than usual. The shaggy look just didn't stick anymore. And he had been tired of Dean calling him "Jesus."

A lot had happened since the end of it. Dean had never taken the time to actually be upset about what happened…

There had been the other shape shifter…

Then came the ghost of the priest…

The Trickster…

And their most recent hunt: A double haunting on a highway

Job after job after job…

Sam hadn't even taken the time to _talk_ to Dean…

It had been two weeks without sign of the Demon or another possible case…

So here they all were…

Ellen and Ash worried about Sam…who was worried about his brother…

Dean, outside, sat in the Impala's driver seat miserable. His eyes were straightforward…watching and listening to the rain beat against the cars' windows.

An hour soon passed…

The rain had stopped…

Surprisingly…the stars came out of no where. It even surprised Dean.

Another hour…

Then another…

And soon Dean was leaning back in the seat, eyes staring at the stars, with a beer in one hand.

He placed his free hand over his melancholy face…

_**Hey, I wanna crawl out of my skin**_

_**Apologize for all my sins**_

_**All the things I should have said to you**_

He took another swig of the alcohol. The taste didn't help.

_**Hey, I can't make it go away**_

_**Over and over in my brain again**_

_**All the things I should have said to you**_

He thought about Amy. He remembered the hurt in her eyes when he told her, rudely, that she should leave the Roadhouse…

She had wanted to cry, but she remained strong. _Always trying to be strong…just like me…_Dean took another pitiful drink from the brown bottle.

_**Counting stars wishing I was okay**_

_**Crashing down was my biggest mistake**_

_**I never ever meant to hurt you**_

_**I only did what I had to**_

_**Counting stars again**_

"_I thought the ten months would go by…and we'd get over it…" Dean said seriously. "I hoped that we could work…" He wanted to bite his tongue. He wanted to stop talking. He just wanted to hold her… "But seriously Amy…" Dean forced out. "This couldn't possibly work…"_

Dean rubbed his hands over his eyes… He hated himself more and more…

"_Go home." He tried to smile…but his lips were trembling. "Go back home…live your life…stay there…"_

Amy, Dean thought sadly, I'm so sorry…

_Her face grew closer to his. Her small lips gently placed a kiss on his cheek._

_Lips close to his ear, Amy moved in more and whispered, "I love you…Dean…"_

_Without looking at anyone else in the room, Amy moved pass Dean and opened the Roadhouse door. Dean, back to the door, heard the door slam shut behind her. He detected the quiet sounds of sobs as Amy disappeared…_

_He let the tears roll down his cheeks…roam free till they reached his chin and fell onto the floor…_

"_I love you too, Amy…" Dean whispered to the air._

"I only did what I had too…" he said aloud. He laughed at himself, but the chuckle was brief and Dean had to shut his mouth before letting any other emotion erupt.

O.O.O.O.O.

It was two in the morning when Dean went to the back of the bar to go to sleep.

Sam was sitting on his cot, awake, flipping through the pages of his father's journal. He looked up, seeing Dean stagger to bed while trying to remove his jacket and shoes. The older Winchester fell onto the bed carelessly, hitting his head on the back wall, and closed his eyes to groan.

"Get some sleep…" Sam ordered tirelessly. He finally found a blank space in the journal and jotted down several notes and details about their previous hunts.

He looked up as his head now rested comfortably into a blue-white-striped pillow. Dean, slightly scruffy from the lack-of-shaving the pass two mornings, asked: "Not tired?"

The psychic-hunter shook his head. "My nerves keep telling me to get ready…for…you know."

Dean nodded. "We're all out of sorts lately." He shrugged as he made a conclusion. "Maybe we should have a vacation or something. Could be good for us."

"No vacation," Sam snapped wryly. He shook his head in Dean's direction.

"What?" Dean barked quietly.

Sam looked up from the dark brown journal and closed it. "You're pathetic, Dean. Really."

"Yeah well-"

"No Dean," Sam said abruptly, "I knew you were just keeping it all bottled up inside…we went through job after job…I waited for you to just _say something_…and now you just mope around while we have nothing to do. You want something to do? Here…" Sam pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "Call her."

Dean rolled his eyes angrily. "Dude, it's over and done with. Can we stop this?"

"Dean, I don't think I want to see you mope around any longer…you're doing the _rainy window_ thing, remember?" Sam mocked. "And if I have to hear you sing to more pitiful country songs…" He rolled his eyes.

Dean squirmed awkwardly in bed. "You heard me in the shower?"

"Dean-"

"Look kid," Dean yawned. "It's dark out. The rain's stopped. There are stars…" He smiled widely – a drunken smile. "Time to go to sleep."

Dean rolled onto his side, back to Sam, and closed his eyes.

The spare room had a small window. Sam leaned over in bed to gaze out briefly. Yes, the stars were out.

_Star light, star bright, _Sam thought.

_First star I see tonight_

_I wish I may_

_I wish I might_

_Have the wish I wish tonight_

Sam wondered what wish could be spared on that first star. The Demon…John… He looked over in the next cot, watching Dean sleep peacefully, and Sam finally decided his wish would be for happiness. For everyone. A corny wish, Sam knew. But what else could he do…it was just a wish…on a star…a star that would mostly turn out to be an airplane.

He turned off the light an hour later and Sam rested his head back and tried to let sleep take him. Maybe he would have a good dream…and wake from the endless nightmare. The hunt for the Demon had just begun. The Colt was now in their hands. And they had forty bullets. _No missing, _Sam grinned to himself. Soon…this would all be over…

And maybe he, and mostly Dean, could just be happy…

O.O.O.O.O.

A/N: Update ASAP – just wanted to get these short chappies out of the way first.

Reviews/Comments much appreciated.


	3. Ch 3 x Something Similar

**Chapter Three – Something Similar**

Ellen, as always, was a most gracious hostess. The kitchenette she had on her own side of the bar was the core location of the strong aroma of coffee and eggs. She always placed everyone's breakfast on the bar counter, along with a cup of coffee and another glass of orange juice. There was a strong motherly sense about her. After all, after Jo's leaving – again – Ellen had focused all of her mother-attention on Dean and Sam. Yes, she was not their mother. She obviously knew that. But she was just a figure doing what she could. Besides, the Winchesters needed taking care of. They had been a mess for so long. Dean was much focused on hunting, fighting with Sam, or moping about the Illinois girl. Sam, on the other hand, had taken it upon himself to uphold the "older" brother status. It was Dean's turn to be taken care of. All Sam had to do was to avoid any more fights or outbursts. He only brought up Amy at cautious times – when he thought Ellen couldn't hear (but she could). Ellen had on occasion had to yell and slam her fist on the counter to stop the boys' bickering. It either took a brief separation – Dean moping in his car or Sam writing in his father's journal – or a glass of alcohol to end the tension.

She wore a sleeveless white blouse that morning. It had been a long time since she had actually put effort on how she looked. Working in a bar didn't actually call for propriety. But today was different: Today was City Day; the day to go into the city to gather groceries and other supplies. It was also Ellen's job to gather computer equipment for Ash, since he was the one who was given the job to look after the bar. Ellen tied her hair back into a ponytail and hoped that, by the time she walked out the door, she wouldn't get anything on her jeans. The rag she used to clean the bar counter with felt rough under her hand. She had put lotion on this morning.

The summer was indeed hot and it made the bar feel twenty degrees hotter than it actually was. Ellen had the weak air conditioning system on high while four fans – in each corner of the place – were turned on high, circulating the cool air inside the place. Ellen wiped a single drop of sweat from her forehead. She shook her head, hoping summer would be over soon, but it was just in the middle.

Summers were usually were the worst time for a bar. Young kids were on road trips and they would occasionally stop by the bar, hoping Ellen would disregard their illegal drinking age. Not to mention, it was bad for hunters who needed to retreat. No one could talk about the latest ghoul or poltergeist bust without a college kid, of legal drinking age, starting a song with his buddies by the jukebox.

The smell of eggs, toast, and coffee caught Sam's attention first. He walked from the back room fully dressed – in jeans and a gray T-shirt – and fresh from the shower. There was a small smile on his face when he caught Ellen's 'Good morning' glance.

He sat down at the bar with a hot plate before him.

Ellen's hospitality had been more than enough. Sam had wanted to pay her back, but she would refuse anything, so he (and Dean, on occasion) would help with the bar. They tended to tables – cleaning and delivering drinks – and sometimes cleaned at closing so Ellen could go to bed early.

The food he received every morning, mid-day, and evenings were gifts. Sam smiled graciously up at Ellen and reached for his cup of coffee. He noticed it was already prepared the way he liked it.

"Good morning," Sam said tiredly. "And thanks." He took a sip of the coffee and savored the taste greatly.

O.O.O.O.O.

In Dr. Bad Ass' room, Ash slept on his stomach with both arms around him awkwardly. His mullet was a mess, long and short hairs covered his face, and a strand was even being sucked in and blown out of his mouth due to his snoring. He always fell asleep in his clothes – tight jeans and usually a checkered vest, missing its sleeves.

Beside his cot there was a desk with Ash's laptop sitting there.

It had been late the previous night when Ash had finally created a system capable of going through different forms of information and gathering any matches: birthdays, where someone grew up, where someone worked, etc. The database was strictly for people who were related to the Demon.

The program, which Ash had unfortunately not found a name for yet, was busily going through the tons of information the computer genius had downloaded into the system. Different forms – such as birth certificates – flew pass the screen as the program searched for anything that could match up. Lawrence, Kansas popped up a few times. Fires, too.

But suddenly, after a hard night's work, the program ceased its busy search and the program settled on a single document stating all the similarities between the different people and their profiles. The program beeped several times, waking Ash with a gruff: "Yeh?" He realized that he was alone and that his computer had notified him that the search was complete. He lifted his head halfway, staring at the laptop's screen, and raised a curious eyebrow.

O.O.O.O.O.

Dean seemed perfectly rested. He wore jeans, sneakers (instead of boots), and a plain red T-shirt. He was halfway done with his breakfast while Sam was finishing his cup of coffee. Ellen, behind the counter, was making sure that she had her purse and her list of things to get. She looked at Dean and Sam and asked, "You boys need anything while I'm in town?"

"No, thanks," Sam smiled.

The other Winchester nodded. "Yeah, thanks Ellen anyway. And thanks for the breakfast," Dean nodded.

Ellen nodded slowly and smiled. "Alright, I'm off. Make sure Ash is awake and ready to do some work today, 'kay?" Both men nodded.

With that, Ellen walked away from the bar counter and left out the front door.

O.O.O.O.O.

Sam, still at the bar, searched through his laptop. Anything supernatural or paranormal-related seemed like a false alarm. He hated to admit that he was bored. Hunting had suddenly been a very big thing in his life the past year and Sam found the last two weeks to be rather dull. Sleep had been good. Yes. Sleep was always good. But now, with having the Colt… _We should be hunting the damned thing…_

Dean, who had been sitting at the window with another cup of coffee, came to the bar and leaned in to see what Sam was searching.

"'Boy claims he's the reincarnated soul of President George Washington'…" Dean read from the screen. He gave Sam a cocky smile and added sarcastically, "Maybe we can ask him 'bout that cherry tree, huh?"

Not amused, Sam rolled his eyes. "There was this thing about a possible ghost sighting in Arizona."

"Ooh," Dean thought, interested, "Grand Canyon."

Sam rolled his eyes again.

Ash appeared rather quickly from his back room. His slight stumble while carrying his laptop and a sheet of paper alerted Dean and Sam of his presence. Still trying to wake, Ash wiped his eyes and approached the guys at the table.

"G'mornin' boys," Ash said quickly. He put his laptop beside Sam's and quickly gave them the sheet of paper he had printed off.

"What is this?" Sam asked, staring down at the paper, quickly noting the excitement in Ash's voice. Only it hadn't been a positive excitement.

Ash held his hands out as he explained: "I finally made the program to compare the different profiles you gave me to put into the computer." Sam and Dean tore their eyes away from the paper to stare at Ash. "I put in everyone who we know has been connected to this whole Demon fiasco…your mom's entire profile, even yours Sam…" He took a deep breath. "And there were _some_, pointless similarities…but there was this interesting one…"

He pointed to a specific section on the paper with the headline in bold: **Laurel Academy. Boston, Massachusetts. Verdan County. 1976.** Below were a list of names…one of them was highlighted…

_Mary Rossum._

"Rossum…" Dean whispered. "That was Mom's maiden name."

Ash pointed to other names and said: "_Chloe Terrell_…" He explained after a moment: "Mother to Max Miller."

Sam and Dean grew quiet as Ash pointed to other names…

_Yvonne Donnelly…_

"That was it…" Sam realized slowly. "I remember the Laurel Academy…it sounded familiar. Mom went there…"

"1976…" Dean thought aloud. "She would have been around twelve."

Ash pointed to another name: _Amelia Ferris_. "Eventually married to Eugene Carey…parents to _Scott Carey_…" He took a deep breath. "He was the other fire-connection I made, remember? He was killed by Gordon."

Sam and Dean remembered. Ash had made a very, very short list of names of those whose mothers had died in fires. Ava had been on that list. Scott Carey too…Gordon killed him…he had had the ability to do something involving electricity…

Dean looked at the sheet of paper and read the bold headline again. "The Laurel Academy…"

"School for girls," Ash explained hastily. "Founded in 1866."

"Our mom went there…" Sam whispered sadly. His eyes went over the other names. No doubt Ava's mother had been on that list…

"Max Miller's…that Scott guy…we finally have a damn connection," Dean sighed putting a hand under his chin.

Ash nodded and sighed heavily. Sam and Dean turned to him worriedly.

"There's something else…despite the obvious connection…" Ash opened his laptop and the screen was on the website of a newspaper or newsletter. "The Laurel Academy is apparently being shut down after this school year. In 2008, the place is going to be torn down and the great amount of land will be put to use for stores and such…"

"Yeah?" Dean asked, wondering what was so important about that.

Ash: "Well Chief…" He scratched his head. He clicked on the laptop and showed another website with another newsletter. The heading read: **Terror At Laurel?** "Last week…twelve-year-old Jill Mondy…was found in one of the corridors by a janitor."

The look of surprise on Sam's face made Ash add quickly: "Oh no, the kid's not dead. But she was in complete shock…a complete _catatonic _state…" He scratched his chest. "There was another incident like that two months before then…a girl fell down the stairs…she fell into a catatonic state too…but doctors noticed that the cuts and bruises on her couldn't have happened due to the fall…" He sighed and shook his head. "Jill Mondy was the same thing. Her little roommate-friends noticed she wasn't in bed that night. They claimed Jill usually couldn't go to bed without walking around a bit…but the girl never came back to her room and the next morning…there she was…the same type of bruises and cuts like the stairs-girl…"

"Something supernatural is doing this?" Sam wondered.

Dean: "And is this something Demon related…"

Ash shrugged and said, "This is the best lead you've had in a while. I say it's worth checking out…besides…" He pointed back to the sheet. "The academy is location in Boston, Massachusetts…Verdan County…one of the oldest areas in Boston…mostly desolate…flat lands and a few hills…" He raised an interested eyebrow. "And it just so happens this county used to be a popular area back-in-the-day when they used to have them witch trails."

Sam cocked his head to the side. "Boston, for back-in-the-day, is known for its witch trails." He looked at Ash's laptop, back to the sheet with the list of names of girls who attended the academy in 1976… _Like Mom…_ and looked up at Dean.

Dean nodded slowly as he put his hands on his waist. "Let's pack up." His eyes darted to Ash. "Think you can print us some directions?"

O.O.O.O.O.

A/N: Sorry, another quick-short update. Hope you're all enjoying

Thanks again for the great reviews – I'm glad everyone is really eager to see what happens with Dean and Amy. I'm still deciding if she'll have a brief cameo appearance in this "episode." But please, just be patient, and don't be upset with me! (Smiles sheepishly). I try not to disappoint my readers.

Reviews/Comments appreciated. Will update ASAP – probably not 'till Monday or Tuesday afternoon.


	4. Ch 4 x The Academy

A/N: I meant to update earlier, but I've been busy with school and preparing for college, and such. Enjoy and reviews/comments appreciated.

O.O.O.O.O.

**Chapter Four – The Academy**

_Three days later…_

The drive had been one of the longest trips yet. Sam had begged, while leaving the Roadhouse, that they take a flight out. Dean, of course, refused. He felt the drive would be enough time for Sam to gather up as much information as possible. Ash, still in Nebraska, offered to do research while they drove to Massachusetts. There really was no other reason to avoid a plane besides Dean's phobia. But Sam eventually gave in.

**NOW ENTERING HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT**

Sam turned his head sleepily as his eyes quickly read the sign. Dean had done most of the driving – his attempt to make up for lost time. He avoided the speed limits and drove as fast as he pleased. Luckily, they were able to get out of the single time they were pulled over. The officer had been female. She had given Dean a warning, along with her phone number.

O.O.O.O.O.

They sat outside a café called Pepperville. Sam was busy opening files Ash had e-mailed regarding the Laurel Academy. He leaned his elbow on the green metal table. He tapped his chin while reading everything he could about what happened in 1976.

_More girls in catatonic states…_he realized. In 1976, two girls – age thirteen, age nine – had been believed to be bullied by other girls. They were found – at different times – cut, bruised, and in complete shock. The names of the girls weren't on the list Ash had typed up.

Dean appeared from the café, carrying two cups of black coffee, and set them down on the table. He sat down in a green chair, lifted his knee to the table, and drank the hot coffee.

"Anything interesting?" Dean asked.

Sam: "Two girls in 1976 – Hannah Hybels and Ashley Wiersma – were found similar to the girls today…cuts, bruises, complete shock…back then the accusations were against bullies who attacked the girls…" He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "The girls have nothing to do with the list Ash printed. They were just victims."

"What happened to them?" Dean inquired. "They ever come out of it?"

He brought his face closer to the screen of the laptop and said, "Ashley, nine at the time, didn't recover until a few months after her tenth birthday…she became mute…and Hannah…didn't start speaking until _two_ years after…but she never spoke about what happened."

Dean: "These girls still alive?"

Sam: "Hannah Hybels died when she was twenty-two. Liver cancer." He shook his head sadly. "Ashley Wiersma currently resides in Africa. She's a missionary." He looked at Dean and mocked: "'Guess we can't talk to Ashley." Sam smirked. "It would take a plane to see her."

He pursed his lips angrily and sat up in his chair. Dean scratched his dirty-blonde-brown hair and said: "Okay, we're a few hours away from Boston. Lets hit the road now and we'll be there tonight."

Sam nodded and closed his laptop up. He pulled out a thin silver chain from his pocket. The pendant on the chain was the charm Bobby had given them to avoid demonic possession.

"Good time to put these on…" Sam suggested as he put on the necklace. He put the charm inside his T-shirt.

Dean did the same. He reached into his pocket and roughly pulled out the chain. His thumb rubbed the charm for a moment, and then he put the necklace on as well.

"Colt?" Sam whispered across the table.

Dean nodded and said, "Resting comfortably with the Cimaruta charm on top of it in the trunk." He grinned while grabbing his coffee. "Let's go."

O.O.O.O.O.

Verdan County was a mighty stretch of land, several miles long in fact. The ground was mostly flat, a few small towns, and giant forests.

They were half an hour from the city of Boston itself. The Impala drove swiftly down the long, winding road, awaiting its final turn and destination.

The Laurel Academy was the most incredible sight…

As Dean and Sam made the final turn and approached an iron gate, the trees – almost a high fence – revealed a three-story brick building over six hundred acres of land.

The car paused on the gravel driveway before the iron fence. Dean and Sam both leaned out of their windows to take a closer look at the place. Even from a distance, they could make out the grand, polished doors, over seventy windows, a stable several yards away from the actual school, and another two-story cottage on the opposite side. The air was warm and humid; the grass was bright and fresh with flowers planted within bushes lining the school.

Dean and Sam, still astounded by the sight of the place and the amount of land, kept the car running and ignored the intercom beside them on a brick post.

Both wore suits: Sam in gray, Dean in navy blue.

Leaning through the window again, Dean reached for the red CALL button.

O.O.O.O.O.

The school had its own garage. The Impala was tenth or twelfth in line beside several older-looking cars.

O.O.O.O.O.

Dean and Sam, each carrying their own briefcase, walked up four large steps to the main entrance. The brick of the house was old, but the flowers and grass made the place seem new. The smell of lilacs in the distance made Sam, for a moment, forget their job and purpose for being there.

O.O.O.O.O.

They entered through the doors quietly. The floor was made of dark-red wood. Directly before them was a grand staircase that went right and left.

There were two corridors – right and left – that turned into different hallways.

Pausing at a center table with a glass vase, Dean placed his briefcase atop and adjusted his black tie.

"Dude, you sure this is going to work?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded briefly.

A moment later, a woman, in her mid-sixties, exited a large room and began her way to Dean and Sam. She had gray high flowing above her shoulders and she wore a feminine blue dress suit and white blouse. Her composition was quite stiff. She looked uncomfortable as she walked, as if someone were forcing her to walk like that. Her face seemed pleased, yet annoyed. She walked with her arms behind her back, but extended her hand to Sam first.

"I am Dean Enyart – you may call me Ms. Enyart. Welcome to Laurel Academy," the old woman greeted semi-warmly.

"I'm Professor Sam Evans, this is my colleague Professor Dean Young," Sam greeted. Dean shook hands with the woman too with a fake grin.

Ms. Enyart looked at Dean and Sam – as if inspecting them – then met their gazes directly.

"I have to say," the woman smiled, "I was surprised that two Northwestern professors found an interest in this school."

Dean tried to hide his surprise at the mention of Northwestern. He caught Sam's gaze who simply raised his eyebrows.

O.O.O.O.O.

They sat in the dean's office. Dean and Sam rested comfortably in two cushioned maroon chairs. Ms. Enyart sat across from them with a portfolio before her. Her office was just as stiff and uncomfortable as she was. The photos all dated back to the early eighties or farther back. Some had been taken in a time when photos were black and white and no one smiled. Her bookcase was tidy and organized. All the objects on the desk – from pencils to notepads – were set near the corners of her desk. (As if the materials themselves were trying to get as far from her as possible).

She opened her folder and Enyart said softly, "I understand, Professor Evans," she looked at Sam, "that you teach Business Law?" Sam nodded. "Good good," she nodded her head several times. "I recently lost a Business Law teacher." Her face looked grim. "We've had many teachers leave – but they haven't been complete losses, considering we're losing students too." She smiled weakly, looking sad, and continued: "You have an excellent history here. Two years at Northwestern. Excellent recommendations…"

Dean couldn't hide the confusion. Had Ash created this whole thing up?

"I see you were recommended by several professors…Professor Ian Saton of Theology…Professor…Aimes Cromwell of Art History…"

Dean's eyes darted to Sam. His younger brother ignored him.

"And Professor Young," Enyart addressed Dean, who turned his gaze to her. "You teach Psychology…but it says here you desire the job of teaching P.E.?"

Dean's awkward smile grew larger and he nodded. "Yes…I…" He was trying to remember the story Sam had created… "I noticed the curriculum for the girls didn't include any sports or recreational activities. I thought…with recent events…it would be wise for the girls to have a bit of fun…" Sam cleared his throat loudly. Dean fixed: "I just thought sports and some physical education would help their mental stability…"

Enyart nodded slowly. "I understand the news of Jill Mondy spread greatly. The girls have been uneasy. Not to mention this is our brief summer break, and we have about seventy girls here at the moment…the ones who remain have the option of attending extra classes…this way, they can graduate earlier than expected."

Nodding, Dean rested his chin on his elbow smoothly, still trying to catch Sam's flare.

The dean folded her hands in front of her and explained: "The youngest girl we have at Laurel is eight and the oldest we have is sixteen. These girls are shipped off from all over. I must admit that Laurel is not as popular as she was back in the day…our student population has decreased over the years. And I will be saddened, after the spring term next year…to watch this place be torn down…" She shook her head miserably. "Out of the seventy-something girls we have still here…there are about forty-to-fifty who need to continue their required classes. Professor Evans, I would greatly appreciate your services as our Business Law teacher, and Professor Young, I believe some recreational activity would be good for the girls, especially those who are still concerned over Jill Mondy's accident…"

Sam and Dean nodded in unison. Enyart smiled, cocked her head to the side, and rested her hands on the desk.

O.O.O.O.O.

"We currently have eleven teachers…all female…we did have a few males last year, but all moved on to different positions elsewhere…we have a kitchen – with cooking staff – and seven janitors. Breakfast is served every morning – even the weekends – at eight o'clock. Lunch is at twelve-thirty. Dinner at seven. I'm afraid, considering you are men, you will be staying in the staff cottage outside of the building. All doors to the school are locked at eleven. You will not be admitted until six. The girl's dormitories are located on the third and second floors. The first is where the classes are located…"

There were more rules and regulations. Enyart gave them a tour of the entire school. The massive building seemed empty and alone. Some girls were in classes while others were enjoying portions of their summer break. Dean caught a few glances from a few kids, from the upper floors, peeking down and whispering about the newcomers.

O.O.O.O.O.

Dean, Sam, and Enyart soon stood outside of the school, gazing back in the miles of nothingness, and were pointed to the cottage they had seen earlier.

Once the tour was done, Enyart left them to gather their things and move into the cottage. They would be the only ones there.

O.O.O.O.O.

Dean threw a rifle on his bed and then dropped himself down, letting his head hit a pillow.

"God I'm tired," he groaned.

"If we had taken a plane, you wouldn't be tired," Sam rolled his eyes. He removed his jacket and sat down on the bed.

"So…" Dean crooned. "Did Ash make up our little professor-profiles…or…"

Sam sighed and looked at Dean. He nodded slowly. "Yeah," he admitted awkwardly. "I called…but I only got Isabella…I asked her to talk to Amy if she could send some info – from Northwestern – proving our background."

Dean began to groan in annoyance. He sat in bed and rubbed his eyes.

"Dude, I couldn't take the chance of going fake…after everything we've been through…we have to be careful…we can't use 'Winchester' anymore…"

"Why the hell not?" Dean barked.

Sam shook his head and laughed, "'Cause we're wanted by the police!"

Dean bit his lower lip and nodded comically. "Got a point there…" He looked at Sam. "So…Amy helped us out then…"

Sam's face fell even more. "Yeah…but Isabella sent me a message back…saying to not call again."

"Great," Dean nodded. "Good…great…just fiiine…"

"Dean-"

"Alright," Dean announced loudly. "We get our stuff together. Print out the info Ash sent us. Get our lesson plans ready" Dean laughed even more "and let's go get some grub."

O.O.O.O.O.

A/N: nothing too exciting yet. But this story is important. I will update ASAP – sorry to keep everyone waiting.

Reviews/comments appreciated.


	5. Ch 5 x Undercover Professors

A/N: **MANY** apologies for the lateness of this update. Things have been busy with school and work – and I've missed writing so much. Back again – hope to give quick and speedy and fun updates. Review/comment! (I hope everyone knows that this story in particular is a very BIG part of the series – so keep an eye out for updates and pay attention.)

O.O.O.O.O.

**Chapter Five – Undercover Professors**

The schedule for either brother didn't seem too bad. (It wasn't as if they were planning a permanent job. They weren't even sure if they were staying for more than a weekend). But everything had to be checked. Those linked with the Demon (like Mary Winchester) were linked to this school. Sam found he was given three classes a week to sophomore-level girls. He knew Business Law like the back of his hand – and teaching it to a group of fifteen-year-old girls didn't bother him. Dean, on the other hand, was not as joyful by the flexibility of his own schedule: four Physical Education classes a week – two groups (one involving the older girls, the other including the younger girls), and Dean, as Professor Young, also had to set up some sort of _gathering_ involving all the girls to discuss any emotional or mental strain – yes, Dean was now a guidance counselor.

"You think they're going to yap about...you know…_girl_ stuff?" Dean asked awkwardly as he tied a black tie around his white collar. It was close to eight-thirty, the next morning, and it was their first day as professors. No teaching was required for today – more of a 'meet-and-greet' discussion.

Sam, sitting on the edge of a bed with floral coverings, polished his black shoes and looked up with a grin. "I'm sure they won't get too detailed."

Dean stared at himself in an oval-shaped mirror on a cherry-wood dresser. He stared at his normal _Blues Brother_ suit. "I'm gonna lose the jacket," he announced. He loosened his tie a bit and ran a hand through his hair. "So, tell me…" he turned around smoothly and held his hands out in a debonair-fashion. "Do I look _too_ hot?"

Wrinkling his nose and sighing, Sam finished lacing his shoes properly and rose from the bed in his similar _Blues Brother_ suit. "You're an idiot."

Pouting his lips, Dean turned his gaze back to the mirror. He carefully tucked the Demon-protection charm inside the shirt. "Okay…so…plan time…" Dean said officially. He turned around to Sam. "When we get our lunch breaks, I cover the first and second floor. You'll cover the third and the stable. Who knows…we could be dealing with haunted ground."

"There's not much history on this place," Sam sighed. He rubbed his chin tiredly. "Nothing too-out-of-the-ordinary in this area. We'll each take EMF – you'll take your hand-made appliance-"

"Why do I get the crappy one?" Dean snapped.

Sam grinned: "Because _you_ made it."

"Fine," Dean mocked, "I'll take the one I made…with my own hands…" He smiled proudly at himself. Dean picked up a brand new black briefcase from the floor. He opened it on his bed – the case was filled with a variety of papers – most fake – and pens and pencils properly placed in the pockets. Dean lifted a small metal latch on the insides of the felt. Sure enough – Dean removed the thin backing to the briefcase – revealing a row of knives and a small flask with holy water.

"I sure do love how we improve our incognito_ness_."

Sam, taking his own briefcase and ensuring his EMF device was placed safely inside, rolled his eyes annoyingly. "Dude, you have to stop talking like that – and stop making up words."

"What?" the older Winchester snapped. He was beginning to grab his things.

"We're _professors…_" Sam reminded strictly. "Use proper grammar. You're Dean Young, Professor of Psychology. Not Dean Winchester – Demon Hunter."

Frustrated, Dean cracked his neck and nodded. "Alrighty. Will do that. C'mon, let's snag some breakfast."

O.O.O.O.O.

Their first breakfast at Laurel Academy had been filled with the meeting of small smiles, giggles and whispers, or stares that warned the Winchesters they were under suspicion. The girls, dressed appropriately in their maroon uniforms, sat within their groups and cliques of friends. The older girls waved bravely and said "Good morning" as Dean and Sam walked the large aisles – in between several rows of large beige tables – and sat down by themselves at the end of one of the tables. The younger girls smiled bashfully and some were engaged in whispers on who the new teachers were. The teenagers were struggling to get a good glance. Sam, taking his silverware slowly to eat his eggs and bacon, nodded nicely to a group of ten-year-olds who were staring right at him. The girls whipped their heads around to each other and began to engage in excited conversation. The words "cute" and "hot" were picked out from the conversations amongst the room. Except for the rest of the staff. The group of female teachers each sat with a seat in between them. They were all in their thirties or older. Dean Enyart was seen at the head of the table, talking to two other women – maybe administrators – and, of course, their talk was of the new professors.

Dean was thankful for the strong coffee. He took small, grateful sips and tried to avoid eye contact with the female teachers sitting at the table over. He leaned on his elbows and whispered: "Have these people not seen a man in…years?"

Sam, trying to hide the obvious laugh, shook his head nonchalant. "Eat your breakfast. We go to class – meet the girls – at lunch – we work. Got it?"

"Alright Professor Evans," Dean snapped as he took a bit of a warm biscuit. He closed his eyes in ecstasy and – mouth filled with bread – exclaimed: "Damn, this breakfast is good."

"Sssh!" Sam ordered.

The students sitting at the table with them, just a few chairs away, giggled and went back to their breakfast.

Sam had a cold feeling crawl up the back of his neck. He tried to avoid the eyes behind him that questioned their reason for being there. Yes, the school was just for girls – and it allowed male staff – but why come here? Sam knew that was the basis of their questioning. He tried to avoid the embarrassing feeling of staring at a group of students. His eyes wondered around the cafeteria instead. It was more of the size of his old high school gym. There were several, elegant fans above with antique bulbs. More paintings of past alumni hung around the walls, including the occasional painted portrait of the Boston landscape. Sam drank his own coffee, his way of avoiding anything around him, until his eyes caught a young girl eating her breakfast alone.

She sat at the last table, near the end, and there were at least fifteen chairs that separated her between a group of girls similar in age. Sam stared sadly at her. She had an adorable face – large cheeks, small mouth, big eyes protected by glasses with thick black rims. Her tray of food – barely eaten – was pushed off to the side. In front of her was a thick book – she was opened to the middle of it. The girl had her arms around her waist as she read, looking at the words carefully, and tenderly turning the pages. She had grayish-brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Occasionally, she took a sip from her small glass of milk, but continued her novel.

"Did you hear me?" Dean's voice erupted in Sam's ear.

Dean's whisper startled Sam for a moment, and when he came to, Sam stared back at his brother.

"What?"

He pointed his fork at Dean Enyart, who had apparently announced that breakfast was over and that girls had fifteen minutes to arrive in class.

Sam nodded and kept a firm grip on the briefcase sitting beside him. "Keep to the plan. Cell phone on vibrate. Call if anything comes up."

"Aye aye, captain," Dean replied, stuffing his mouth with another biscuit and licking his finger at the same time.

Sam looked back at the little girl with the book, but found she was gone. All that was left was the small tray of barely-touched food.

O.O.O.O.O.

Sam arrived on time to his classroom. There were six rows of five desks in each. Not all the seats were filled – for the summertime course, he only had eleven students.

He entered the room, at first hesitant, but quickened his steps to keep up appearances. The fifteen-year-olds all looked at him with interest and instant-crushes. Some girls straightened their posture and crossed their legs nicely to attract his attention. Slightly nervous, Sam placed his briefcase on his desk and adjusted his tie. The eleven pairs of eyes were still on him – studying him – waiting for him to speak.

Some girls, outside the class room, peeked in quickly as they darted to their other classes. Sam, standing behind the mahogany desk, mentally counted the number of girls in the class and announced: "Looks like we're all here. Let's get started."

There was no more noise coming from the halls. Girls were in their classes – and those who were not part of the summertime courses were instructed to remain in their rooms until noon, or take time outside.

The walls of the classroom were gray and had pictures of maps and of various presidents. Sam opened his briefcase, found a list of names, and closed the briefcase.

He walked around his desk, still hearing giggles from some girls in the back, and Sam sat on the corner of the desk.

He smiled sweetly and said: "I'm Professor Sam Evans. Obviously, I'm new." He smiled bashfully, meeting the grins of the other teens. "And…I'm your Business Law teacher for the time being."

"Hope it's a long time," a girl whispered in the back.

It was obvious the group of girls were not shy. Very coy, indeed.

"Well…let me call out names…" Sam held the list in his hands. "And we'll get to know each other a bit better."

O.O.O.O.O.

"I am Dean Young – you can call me Dean – and I will not accept 'Sir', 'Professor', or 'Mister'…got it?" Dean said in an authoritative way.

The row of ten-year-olds giggled and nodded.

They were outside in the fresh morning. Some dew was still left on the thin blades of grass. The sun was friendly while it was still trying to reveal itself from the clouds.

The girls sat on a long cemented bench in the back of the school. All sat side-by-side, hands in lap, and looked at Dean with awe and admiration.

Yes, they had instantly fallen in love with their new teacher.

Dean had removed his jacket and tie and paced in front of the girls in a straight right-to-left line. Like someone in the military, Dean ordered: "We _will_ have fun. We _will_ get dirty. You _will_ learn the values of good sportsmanship in flag-football, soccer, and perhaps some dodge ball. I know some of you are thinking 'But gee, we're just helpless little girls'…but guess what, you're not."

O.O.O.O.O.

"We'll learn the basics of our Constitution which we can make connections to the law of business," Sam said, reading from a guide he had printed out earlier.

The girls smiled at him. Sam was grateful they were paying attention. In fact, they seemed to be enjoying the prospect of learning Business Law.

In fact, they were head-over-heels for him.

O.O.O.O.O.

"And you won't have to wear your stiff uniforms – shorts and T-shirts and sneakers," Dean said proudly.

"But what if we get some dirty!" a girl in the middle cried, horrified.

Dean cocked his head and grinned. "It's the point! Escape that disgusting-scholastic shell of yours. Time to let loose! Party! HAVE _FUN_!"

O.O.O.O.O.

Sam: "I don't expect major assignments since it's just a summer course. But we'll see. Maybe we'll even have Mock Trails – you guys can be the judge or jury, witnesses or bailiff…"

O.O.O.O.O.

Dean: "Softball – but only fast pitch of course. I'm gonna see what you puny things are made of."

O.O.O.O.O.

Sam: "How laws are made and put into effect…how law affects our trails' outcomes…some accounting principles…"

O.O.O.O.O.

Dean: "If there's no blood on those jerseys, there's no point…"

O.O.O.O.O.

Sam: "Business Law – knowing it – will help you in the future when you're doing simple things such as bank-related situations and you may one day receive a subpoena for jury duty."

O.O.O.O.O.

Dean: "Algebra? Chemistry?" He gave a hearty laugh. "Like you'll ever use that when you get out of school – I know I haven't."

O.O.O.O.O.

After an hour-and-a-half, Sam watched his "students" go and prepared for work. He knew Dean would be dealing with his second group of students before lunch. Sam had all the time in the world to explore the third floor and school grounds.

Sam found a safe place in the lobby to leave his briefcase. He took the EMF device and turned it on. He stuck the appliance into his pocket with the antenna sticking out. The small ear pieces attached to the device were now resting comfortably in Sam's ears.

His job: Third floor and school grounds. It would be too risky to explore the third floor with girls still in their rooms; plus, if he had been caught: _Try explaining that one…_ Agreed, it was safer to explore the academy's grounds.

O.O.O.O.O.

Sam walked through the front entrance and carefully circled around the front courtyard for any detection. So far, there was barely a red light going off or a buzz to be heard. There was nothing on the EMF.

He looked around, irritated, and his eyes caught the horse's stable on the west grounds.

O.O.O.O.O.

The stable looked old and unkempt. The planks of wood were old – even rotting a bit – and Sam stepped in the stable quietly.

On each side of him were five compartments where the horses remained. Some neighed quietly while the others still slept.

Sam, seeing no one around, pulled the EMF out, hoping to catch a better signal.

He walked slowly down the aisle, peering down at large stacks of hay and straw on the ground. He was halfway down the aisle, spotting a large stack of hay and straw, and his eyes widened in surprise and he almost dropped the EMF down.

The little girl – the one who had been eating breakfast alone – screamed and she dropped her book onto the ground and backed away into one of the horse's stalls. The horse, alarmed, neighed wildly and the little girl jumped back.

"Hey hey," Sam called soothingly. He stuck the EMF into his pocket and held his hands out protectively. "I-It's okay…" He smiled. "My name is Sam. I'm a new teacher."

The little girl pressed her thick-rimmed glasses further up her nose. She dusted off a few pieces of hay from her skirt. She seemed nervous. And scared.

Sam smiled softly and knelt down to pick up the book she had been reading. Wiping the dirt from its cover, Sam looked at the book and smiled in an impressed way. "You're reading _East of Eden_." Sam looked up. The little girl nodded. Sam shook his head and said, "I love Steinbeck…gee…I read this book in my sophomore year for an Honors class." He handed the book gently to the girl. She accepted it kindly and tried to smile – but her nervousness got the best of her.

The little girl rose from her position before Sam.

"What's your name?" Sam asked gently.

The girl gulped and answered: "Felicity."

Sam nodded. "Well, Felicity. I'm glad that someone – as young as you – has found interest in Steinbeck. How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"Wow, very impressive…" Sam noted. "What were you doing here?"

"Reading."

"No class?"

"No."

Sam nodded. "So I guess you're one of the lucky ones who got to stay at school for summer, huh?"

Felicity nodded. "I was going to go back home to Texas…b-but my parents decided to take a trip to Germany…" She looked up sadly. "W-Without me."

His heart ached instantly for her. He smiled at her tenderly and motioned that they walk out the stable together.

O.O.O.O.O.

"Do you often read by yourself?" Sam asked as they walked on the pathway back to the school.

Felicity held Steinbeck's _East of Eden_ to her chest. It was a precious treasure, obviously. "I…" she had a small stammer. But she was still nervous about the attractive young man with her. "I read in the stable because it's quiet. The girls at this school are noisy."

Sam laughed. "So…Steinbeck, huh? What else do you read?"

"Ken Kesey…Oscar Wilde…Nathanial Hawthorne…" She listed easily, as if someone had asked her to list members of her family.

Impressed, Sam stuck his hands into his pockets and noted, "Well, that's excellent Felicity. You'll do well in the future. Do you know what you want to do when you grow up?"

She shrugged her shoulders plainly. She was getting used to him – obviously – and she looked up at Sam questionably. "You don't seem the type to teach. And too young."

He laughed nervously. "Nah, I'm just an overachiever."

"Isn't there a new guy who came with you?"

"Yeah, he's my –" Sam stopped short. "My colleague. We both taught in Chicago before."

Felicity nodded. She seemed relived when they came back to the entrance of the school.

"I'm gonna go back to my room and read," Felicity announced. She gave Sam a small grin, revealing the tiniest gap in her front teeth. "Thanks for walking me back."

"It's okay."

"It's a scary school, you know."

Sam suddenly remembered why he was at Laurel Academy in the first place…

_Jill Mondy…_

"Felicity," Sam called. The girl stopped before reaching the stairs. Sam approached her and knelt down. She was quite short – even for her age. "What do you mean _scary_?"

Felicity reacted as if she had said something she shouldn't have said.

"I just…" Felicity thought carefully. "I-It's just…"

"You mean…" Sam tried to help. "What happened with Jill Mondy?"

The little girl instantly nodded. Sam raised his eyebrows sadly.

"Jill was my friend…" Felicity explained. "My _only_ friend…"

At this, Felicity tried bravely to smile and to say goodbye, and she took off running up the stairs. Sam watched her carefully, studying her, wondering if she knew anything that was happening…

O.O.O.O.O.

A/N: Will update ASAP – just had to get this part out of the way.

You all have no idea how tempting it is to write Amy into this story – I miss her! (weeps wildly). But it's important to just have a story with Dean and Sam and to focus on the goal at hand. Trust me, this story is very important on how I want it to go… Here's a hint: This story explains why Mary said "I'm sorry" in Season One's "Home."

Comment/Review!

P.S. ALSO, it took me a while to update because there was an error on the site on uploading documents. I hate it when that happens.

P.S.S. I can't wait for "Hollywood Babylon" on Thursday!


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